Hilariously Ever After

by Box Set

  Not that she liked Nikolas Christou, or anything—even if he was kind of funny over email. She didn’t like him at all. Theirs was a strictly professional relationship. But God, on a physical level, Aria liked him a hell of a fucking lot.

  From behind the cover of her Victoria Beckham-esque shades (circa 2006, since Nik was a footballer and all), Aria devoured the man sitting beside her. His attention was on the cool, shadowy garage they were rolling into. His head was tilted back slightly, and his full lips were parted in a way that reminded her of, say, a guy looking down at her as she sucked his cock. Just for example.

  He had one big hand wrapped around the gearstick, the other on the wheel. His forearms were golden-brown and dusted with dark hair, thickly muscled and lined with veins she’d love to run her tongue over. Theoretically, of course. Just like she was theoretically wondering which of the many toys in her sox—aka her sex box—might be the exact same size as his long, thick fingers. All in the name of science, you understand.

  But Aria did not like Nik at all.

  He parked the car and looked at her. It wasn’t the way normal people looked, with eyes and general attention and all that. It was some next-level, ridiculously intense look that she’d only ever seen from Nik. He met her gaze and she felt like she’d been slapped in the face with feelings. Like he was telepathically pushing shit into her brain, shit like, You’re special, and You’re the centre of my world, and Holy fuck, I care so much about everything that comes out of your mouth.

  He put all that in her head with a sweep of those thick lashes, and then he followed it up with the utterly mundane: “You good?”

  Nik, Aria had quickly realised, was one of those men. You know; the ones who’d been born with the superpower of effortless seduction, who could make you believe they’d fallen in love by fucking accident. She’d decided to keep that fact at the forefront of her mind all week, like armour in the battle against those big brown eyes. “I’m good,” she nodded.

  He smiled at her as they got out of the car, and Aria’s so-called armour collapsed. Oh, dear Lord, why did he have to be so fine? Why? What was the reason? Who made him? Where did he come from? It simply wasn’t natural.

  “Everyone will be asleep,” he said while she had a mental crisis over his hotness. “Except G, maybe. She gets up early.”

  Aria cast a doubtful look at the bright Spanish sun beyond the opening of the garage. “Asleep?”

  “Party started yesterday, technically.”

  She hadn’t expected Nik to grab her luggage at the airport—rich men were generally thoughtless—but he had. So, she wasn’t surprised when he did the same thing now, hauling both their suitcases out of the car as if it were nothing. His might actually be pretty light, but Aria knew full well that hers was weighed down by vital outfit changes, shoe options, assorted belly bars, and a hell of a lot of sex toys. Like she’d ever leave the sox at home when she was fake-dating the guy who’d melted her knickers off with a kiss. What did she look like, a fool?

  He led the way into the house, its air conditioning delicious against her slightly sweaty skin. Was Spain supposed to be this fucking hot? It wasn’t that far from home. She stretched out her arms as they wandered through cool, dim hallways. “Who’s G, by the way?”

  Before Nik could answer, a sickly-sweet voice came from a nearby room. “I’m G! Who’s you?” A second later, a figure appeared in the doorway.

  A very short, very thin figure in a tiny red bikini that matched her scarlet lipstick and complimented her waist-length, golden hair. The woman widened incredible baby blues at the sight of them. Then, without waiting for a response to her question, she gave an excitable squeal and ran up to Nik with open arms.

  Which was when Aria’s travel-fatigued brain made use of the info Nik had been feeding her for weeks. ‘G’ must be Georgia, Nik’s best friend’s girl, a woman firmly on the ‘safe’ list. Which meant Aria didn’t have to beat her off with a stick.

  Good thing, too. It’d be pretty damn hard to get a stick, or a ruler, or a blade of fucking grass, between Nik and Georgia’s bodies right now.

  Not that Aria was jealous. Her concern was purely professional. She was, after all, a professional girlfriend.

  As if he’d heard that thought, Nik stepped back and turned to Aria. He held out a hand, flashing a smile that would have turned her brain to mush if she weren’t in possession of certain important facts. Like the fact that everything about to occur between them would be 100% staged.

  Still, his hand sliding into hers felt real enough. In fact, it shocked her system like a bolt of lightning.

  “Ri,” he said, and she realised he was talking to her. Ri? Fucking Ri? Aria would have been disgusted by such rampant shortening of her name, if it didn’t vaguely connect her to the legend that was Rihanna. “This is Georgia,” Nik went on. “Georgia, this is my girlfriend, Aria.”

  For a second, Georgia’s mouth hung open. It was a rather impactful sight, what with all the red lipstick involved. But a heartbeat later she pulled herself together and gave Aria a smile that seemed totally genuine.

  “Oh my God!” she trilled. “Girlfriend?” But not in a bitchy kind of way. More like the way someone would shout, “Oh my God, is that a fresh pack of Digestives?” Then she threw herself into Aria’s arms just as she’d thrown herself at Nik. It was quite a strange sensation, having a tiny, half-naked stranger hanging on to her waist, but Aria decided it wasn’t completely unpleasant.

  “Hi,” she managed.

  Georgia stepped back. “You alright, babe? Oh, I’m proper buzzing to meet you!” She turned an exasperated look on Nik and said, “Did you tell Varo about this? Cuz if you’ve told him and he ain’t told me—”

  “Calm down,” Nik said. “I didn’t mention it. Didn’t want to cause a fuss. Aria’s very private.” This was the line they had agreed upon.

  “Oohhhhh,” Georgia said. She gave Aria a sympathetic look. “I completely understand. I was just saying to Laurie yesterday—you’ll meet Laurie, when she drags her arse out of bed.” Georgia launched into a truly astonishing cackle that lasted approximately three seconds before ending abruptly. “I was saying, people overshare so much these days. Especially with social media. No-one needs to know if me and Varo are nipping down the beach for a shag, do you know what I mean? That’s not IG story material! But some people, oh, I could go on all day.”

  “Really,” Nik agreed solemnly. “She could.”

  Georgia tossed her acres of sunshine hair in a disdainful sort of way and said, “Shush, you!” Then she turned back to Aria. “So, what’s going on? How did this happen? Where did youse meet?” She grinned like a kid awaiting a bedtime story.

  Aria offered her best impression of shyness—which wasn’t great, since she’d never been shy—and said, “Oh, it’s kind of a funny story.”

  A story she’d rehearsed several times, in preparation for this moment. They’d decided to stick close to the truth, but Nik kept harping on about delivery. Apparently, they had to be convincing, or his friends wouldn’t believe a word of it. He’d never had a girlfriend before, or a boyfriend, for that matter, so he predicted shock.

  Clearly, when it came to relationships, the two of them were polar opposites.

  But Aria intended to earn her hundreds of thousands of pounds—damn, those words felt good, even in her mind—so she was ready to put on the best performance of her life. Until Nik pulled her into his arms so suddenly she forgot how to breathe.

  “She kissed me,” he said, staring down at her with more love in his eyes than she’d seen from her own damn mother. “We bumped into each other at the hotel, and she just… grabbed me and kissed me.”

  It was disturbingly easy to melt against his broad chest, to smile up at him in fond, mock-censure. “You asked me to kiss you, Nik.”

  “And I thought you were going to say no.”

  “I didn’t say anything. I was thinking.”

  “Well, you took your bloody time,” he said, sou
nding for all the world like a sheepish, smitten bastard.

  “But I got there in the end,” Aria replied, her voice sickeningly soft. She hadn’t known she could act like this. She was almost scaring herself. If the look on her face was even close to the adoring stare on his, they both deserved an Oscar. A joint Oscar. Was that a thing? Well, it should be.

  “Oh my God!” Georgia squealed, clapping her hands together. She jumped up and down, and her magnificent chest bounced like a pair of melons rolling down someone’s front steps. Aria mentally filed the image away for the boob job she was never going to get, but constantly considered. “You,” Georgia cried, pointing at Nik, “are in love!”

  Nik’s reaction wasn’t half as negative as it should be. “Oh, come on G,” he said cheerfully. “Don’t stress me.” But Aria caught his cocky little wink. And she definitely caught the way he looked down at her through those thick, sooty lashes, dragging his teeth over that lush lower lip.

  As if he were ready to fall.

  “I think that went well,” Nik said, as he set down their suitcases and shut the bedroom door firmly. They were in the room Varo usually gave him, right at the top of the house and almost alone, but complete privacy was necessary. No point hiring a (fake) fake girlfriend if anyone could pass by and overhear the fact that she was, you know, fake.

  When Aria didn’t answer, he turned to find her standing in the middle of the room, staring at the queen-sized bed. Nik smiled and ran a hand through his hair, stretching out the aching muscles in his back. “Yeah, the room’s amazing. I love this house.”

  Abruptly, Aria turned to him, her focus on the bed forgotten. “What was that?”

  Nik’s smile faded. He wasn’t exactly an expert in social interaction, but her tone did not sound positive. “What was what?”

  “That. Down there. I know the point is to fake this, but…” she gave a brittle, nervous sort of laugh. “I didn’t know you were that good an actor.”

  “Was I… supposed to be bad?” Nik asked slowly. Then he realised what he was saying and frowned. “Wait, what? I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”

  For a moment, she just looked at him with something steely in her gaze. She was beautiful, of course, even after the flight. He was starting to think she couldn’t not be beautiful. Her hair was dark now and longer than it had been when they met. She was wearing shorts and a vest, but the way she wore them—he couldn’t even describe it. Something about her commanded attention, and it was sexy as hell.

  At that moment, though, she seemed fragile despite her power. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched him almost warily, as if expecting him to turn into a monster before her eyes. The tension swelled for several rigid seconds. But then she shook her head and slowly seemed to relax.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m going on about. You just shocked me. I didn’t know you could lie like that.”

  He grimaced at the word. Lie. He hadn’t felt as if he was lying downstairs, but he supposed he must’ve been. And he was definitely lying to her, kind of. Sort of. Was paying an extortionate amount of money to keep her with him under false pretences a lie?

  No. That is the behaviour of a potential serial killer.

  Oh, for God’s sake.

  “It was easy,” he admitted, “to… perform love. Because I’ve seen so much of it. My parents, before my father died. My sister and her husband. I wouldn’t say I’m a good liar, but that I can do.”

  The last bit of hesitancy left her expression. “That’s sweet. I wish I could say the same,” she chuckled, wandering around the room, from the ornate vanity he’d never used to the huge, glass-panelled wardrobe. “My parents fucking hate each other.”

  The humour in her voice startled a laugh out of him. He almost forgot the unease that had cloaked her moments earlier; in fact, she seemed to have forgotten it. Maybe it was just nerves. It was easy to forget that she could feel something so mundane, because everything about Aria was bold and fearless—but their situation was pretty fucking weird, and she had vulnerabilities like everyone else. She must. Despite how perfect he found her, she was only human.

  “Not a happy family?” he asked.

  She smirked as she walked past him into the bathroom. “God, no. But divorce is a sin, so on they trudge.” She looked at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Fucking kill me now. Oh, look, there’s little moisturisers in here, like a hotel.”

  “That’s G. She takes these parties very seriously.”

  “She’s a sweetheart,” Aria said. Nik felt something in him relax, something he hadn’t even realised was there. He wanted her to like his friends. He needed her to, almost.

  “Eventually,” Nik blurted out, “I’d like to be like my parents. Or my sister. Or even Georgia and Varo. It’s ridiculous how much they love each other. That’s what I want.” He had no idea why he’d said that. They weren’t even on that topic anymore. They’d moved on to little moisturisers, for fuck’s sake, but apparently his mind hadn’t gotten the message.

  Still, Aria didn’t question it. She leaned forward to reach the cabinet over the massive marble counter. Her top rose up, and he tried not to stare too much at the expanse of lower back it revealed. “That’s funny,” she said lightly. “That you’re so into true love, I mean, but you’ve got yourself a fake girlfriend.”

  If only she fucking knew. “Well, I’ve always wanted love, but in a distant sort of way. I suppose…” He faltered as a realisation hit him. It wasn’t a particularly flattering one, but he said it anyway. “I suppose I assumed it would fall into my lap, like everything else. So, I never put any effort into romance.”

  “Hmm.” She caught his eye in the mirror. “I feel like you’re expecting me to judge you here.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Sweetheart, I’m just trying to get paid.”

  He snorted, even as the words scratched at his heart. “I’m aware. So, what about you, chrysí mou?”

  She smirked. “See, you think I’m gonna ask you what that means, so you can tell me some romantic shit and I’ll swoon.”

  “Ah... What?” Nik blinked.

  “Cut the Greek. You know it sounds sexy. And you just can’t stop being a dirty little flirt.” Aria winked as she strutted out of the bathroom. Her hip brushed his as she passed through the door, and Nik’s mind scrambled. Did she really think Greek was sexy? And what did it mean that she’d called him dirty with that teasing smile on her face and that sparkle in her eyes? And why was he trying to figure out ways to get her to say it again?

  Wait, what were they talking about?

  Oh, yes. He hid his confusion—and his frankly excessive arousal—behind the best smirk he could muster, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. “You didn’t answer my question. What about you?”

  “About me?” She hauled her suitcase onto the bed—impressive, because that thing weighed a ton—and started the lock combination.

  “Do you want to find love?”

  Aria rolled her eyes. “I found it. Several times. Never quite got the hype. Love is like a diamond: costs a lot, has a great rep, but at the end of the day it’s just a shiny rock. It has no purpose and no value beyond what we’ve assigned to it. Most people just want to say they’ve got one.”

  He gaped as she opened her suitcase and sorted through a pile of glittery fabrics. He had never, in all his life, heard such a cynical analysis of love. And he’d been a pro footballer since he was seventeen.

  The beast she’d awoken inside him was howling its displeasure. It demanded that he prove her wrong, that he change that hard set to her pretty mouth and light up the shadows that wreathed her words. But before he could even begin, Aria looked up and flashed him a smile. “No offence,” she said wryly.

  Nik choked down his impassioned responses and said, “None taken.”

  Chapter 6

  The household staggered into life by 3 p.m. Where Nik led, Aria must follow, so she was relieved to find that his p
lans for the day revolved around the villa’s pool. He spent the afternoon thrashing about in the water with his mates, a series of men whose names she was never going to remember.

  She paid attention only to the ones she’d already heard. Like Alvaro, or Varo, Nik’s best friend and Georgia’s boyfriend. He was a handsome Spaniard, if you were into the long-hair-and-bottomless-eyes thing. His ink was fantastic, too. And he seemed just as sweet as Georgia, if slightly quieter.

  Then there was Kieran, a Brit with dark skin and a shy smile that made Aria’s heart melt. She found shy people fascinating, probably because she absolutely could not relate. Whatever the reason, she liked Kieran on the spot. His girlfriend, Laurie, was less easy to warm to—not because there was anything wrong with her, but because she only spoke French. Aria had failed French at school, along with almost every other subject. She did manage a mangled sort of “Comment ca-va?” though. Laurie, unsurprisingly, was not particularly impressed. But they had Georgia for company on the sun loungers, nattering away non-stop and translating parts of the conversation.

  “I’ve told everyone about you,” Georgia was saying happily. “I ran through the house, I did, after youse got here! I shook all these lazy buggers awake and told ‘em, Nik’s got a girl!”

  Thank you, Georgia, for doing half of my work for me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.

  “Course, most of ‘em fell right back to sleep.” Georgia rolled her eyes. “Honestly. They best be ready to go by tonight, at least!”

  “You guys take this party pretty seriously,” Aria murmured, most of her attention on her sketchbook. She stared at the little 3-D heart she’d just finished shading. What should she write in the centre? Get fucked? Or Dior slut?

  “You’re damned right we do!” Georgia cried. “Especially the lads. Most of them don’t get much time to relax.”